


doors and windows

by you_idjits



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Diners, First Kiss, M/M, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:12:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3425786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_idjits/pseuds/you_idjits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See, Dean has this dream. Where there’s no Apocalypse, no angels or demons, no celestial battles to fight. Where Cas falls, only it’s not like how it is now, with Cas grumpy and tired and confused. Instead he’s happy. He smiles more. He falls because he wants to. He falls for Dean.<br/>Dean has this dream where they maybe make a home together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	doors and windows

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was prompted on tumblr, where someone asked me to put my iPod on shuffle and write a fic inspired by the song that came up. That song was [I Don't Have Time to be in Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Ho8U2a3pMc) by Priscilla Ahn. Please, if you can, listen to the song while reading.

See, Dean has this dream. Where there’s no Apocalypse, no angels or demons, no celestial battles to fight. Where Cas falls, only it’s not like how it is now, with Cas grumpy and tired and confused. Instead he’s happy. He smiles more. He falls because he wants to. He falls for Dean.

Dean has this dream where they maybe make a home together. With doors and windows and everything. With only one bed, because maybe that’s all they need. Dean dreams of coming home after a long hunt and kissing Cas on the cheek, saying, “Hey, stranger.” He dreams of Cas wearing jeans and flannels, heavy work boots. Maybe Dean’s clothes.

He dreams of Cas, human, warm and solid at his side. Always at his side. He dreams of a world where they can be– together. It’s dumb, too romantic for Dean, but he wants it.

Except, that’s not their world. Their world is bloody. One night, Cas shows up to help with a case– some low-ranking angels are trying to imitate the Ten Plagues. Cas knows the Old Testament better than Sam or Dean do, of course, because he lived through it. He tells them what they need to know, and then he braces himself to fly off again, and before Dean knows what’s happening–

“Wait,” he blurts. “Uh. Cas, buddy. Why don’t you stick around for a bit?”

“But–”

“Come on, man. Don’t tire out your grace. You just got here.”

Cas looks at him, and then at Sam. “I have to continue my work. God–”

“Probably isn’t going anywhere.” Dean stands up, and for a moment he lets down his guard. “Let’s just get dinner or something.”

“I don’t need to eat,” Cas says, but he isn’t flying off, so Dean grabs the keys to the Impala.

“Sam?”

“I’m gonna finish this up,” Sam says, without looking away from his research. Dean thinks he knows. He probably knows.

Cas looks at Dean, and Dean looks at Cas. “Okay,” Dean says. “Guess it’s just us, then.”

So they drive to the nearest 24-hour diner, and the waitress leads them to a booth. Dean slides in, and then Cas sits down– next to him.

“Uh, Cas,” Dean says, and then stops himself. Cas doesn’t know about things like diner etiquette, things like sitting on opposite sides of booths.

Does Dean really mind?

He imagines slinging his arm around Cas’s shoulder, maybe tangling their fingers together. Pressing a kiss to Cas’s temple.

But he doesn’t do that. He plants his elbows on the table and pretends to look over the menu. He tries not to notice the curve of Castiel’s shoe nudging his ankle.

 Dean orders bacon cheeseburgers for them both. Cas looks at his with curiosity, picking apart the tomato slices. He offers Dean his pickle.

“So,” Dean says. “The search for God. How’s that going?”

“Not well,” Cas says, his voice rough and low with frustration. “I flew here from Saint-Michel d'Aiguilhe Chapel, in France. It’s one of the most sacred places in the world. I thought– well. I thought maybe God would– it doesn’t matter. He wasn’t there.”

“France, huh.” Dean picks up a fry, draws it through his ketchup. “We should–” _go there sometime._ He snaps his mouth shut, teeth clicking. No. He clears his throat, tries again. “Was it beautiful?”

“Breathtaking.”

“Yeah. I’ll bet. Never been. Planes, you know.”

“Yes,” Cas says, and he smiles, “I know.”

They eat in silence, mostly. Their elbows knock together, sometimes.

Dean would cook for Cas, once he fell. Once he could appreciate simple pleasures, human pleasures. Good food, good music, good kissing. Dean would make bacon cheeseburgers from scratch, and– maybe Cas could grow the tomatoes, maybe they could have a garden. Maybe Cas wouldn’t pick apart his burger if Dean made it for him.

“I just don’t like tomatoes,” Cas says, and Dean stiffens. “Besides, they’re finicky plants to grow. I’d start with something easier. Peas, maybe.”

There’s a sudden weight on Dean’s chest, heavy like lead. He puts down his burger, appetite gone.

“Cas,” he says.

Cas turns and looks at him. He doesn’t say anything.

Dean wets his lips. “Have you been reading my mind?”

“I’m an angel,” Cas says, “for at least a few more weeks. It’s what I do.”

For a moment, the panic in Dean’s veins gets edged out by anger. “Those are my thoughts, Cas, _my_ dreams–”

“Prayers,” Cas says. “That’s how they sound to me. I’m sorry. I can’t ignore prayers.”

Dean covers his face with his hands. This is not how he wanted it to go.

“Dean,” Cas says. “Dean, look at me.”

Dean takes a deep breath, and then another. “I’m sorry, Castiel, if I made you uncomfortable with–”

“Dammit, Dean, I don’t need an apology.”

Cas is an angel, he said it himself. He’s a warrior of God and Dean’s the Michaelsword and they have an Apocalypse to stop. They don’t have time for gardening. They don’t have time to be together. He knew that, he knew that, but it still hurts.

“I heard that too,” Cas says, “and you’re wrong.”

Dean looks up. “What do you mean?”

“When I’m with you,” Cas says, and then he stops. His hand, where it rests on the table, clenches into a fist. “Dean. When this is over, and it will be over someday, I want– that. A house, a bed. A human life, at your side.”

And then Dean is kissing him, open-mouthed and open-hearted. He knots his hands in Cas’s hair and kisses with everything he’s got. Cas’s hands come up to clutch at his jacket. Their lips are salty from the fries, but their kisses are sweet.

Dean breaks away to breathe, pressing his face to the side of Cas’s neck. “You should have told me.”

Cas’s hand comes up to comb through the short hairs at the base of his head. “I worried you wouldn’t listen. Good things happen to you and you push them away, Dean. You think you don’t deserve them.”

“Yeah, because I don’t know how the hell I could deserve you,” Dean says. He noses at Cas’s jaw, trails kisses down his neck. Cas gasps, just a little. He’s out of breath, too, and Dean didn’t think angels could get out of breath.

“It’s not about what you deserve, Dean,” says Cas. He takes Dean’s face in his hands, makes Dean hold his gaze. “It’s about what you want.”

His eyes are so goddamn blue. Dean would live the rest of his life in a room with walls the color of those eyes.

“You know what I want,” Dean says. “You know how I feel.”

“Yes,” Cas says. He kisses Dean.

The waitress, from behind the counter, clears her throat. Dean jerks away from Cas. He wipes his lips with the back of a hand, ducks his head.

“I’m not going to kick you out,” she says, “but if you could keep the public displays of affection to a minimum–”

“We were just leaving,” Cas says. Dean thinks he’s never loved Cas more than he does in this moment.

So they pay their check and they leave. Dean crowds Cas up against the door of the Impala, locks him in with knees and hands. They kiss until the streetlights look like stars.

When Dean tries to wrestle him into the backseat, Cas says, “Sam will be expecting us back soon.”

“We’ve got time,” Dean says, and he opens the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted on tumblr.
> 
> Thank you to [Tasha](http://kraziiisme.tumblr.com/) and [Onja](http://appleblossomdean.tumblr.com/) for editing.
> 
> PSA I will always and forever take prompts. There’s no guarantee I’ll write them, but please, if you want something written, feel free to ask.


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